Authors: Wendi Hulsey
(Desire Series, Book #1)
Tainted Desire (Book 1)
Copyright © 2013
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form without written permission except for the brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Cover design by:
Melody Simmons of ebook Indie Covers
Terry Galloway Trahan
This work is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental
Copyright © 2013
All rights reserved.
I would like to dedicate this book to the many people who helped me through this long and difficult journey. I thank you for believing in me when I was ready to give it all up and for encouraging me to continue. A special thanks to my family for pitching in and helping more around the house, freeing up time for me to write, and for the moral support I needed to get through this. I love you! A very special thank you to Charlene Martin, she has been a great friend and my main support system through this entire process. I look forward to attending many book signings with you in the future and having fun on our “road trips.” I would also like to thank Angel Steel, Kirstie Hicks, and Sharon Courtney for beta reading, revising, editing, and answering so many questions. To Melody Simmons at Ebook Indie Covers for great covers at an affordable cost and Debra at The Book Enthusiast for organizing my cover reveal, release day party, and blog tour. Also, a big thank you to Terry Galloway Trahan, for editing my mess and doing a fantastic job in the short amount of time you had to work with. You are truly amazing and I’m grateful to have you. I could not have done all this without you. One more thank you again to Angel Steel, for formatting my book into the different formats I need, and also for answering endless questions. You have the patience of a saint.
I would also like to thank the readers who purchase, read, and review this book. Without the readers, there would be no reason to write. Love all of you dearly.
Terry Galloway Trahan- for editing my book and saving me a lot of embarrassment, thank you!
Angel Steel- for formatting my book. T
hat would have taken me forever to figure out, and you made it simple for me. Thank You!
Ebook Indie Covers
A special thanks to my first beta girls: Charlene Martin, Angel Steel, Kirstie Hicks,
and Sharon Courtney, your wisdom and expertise is highly appreciated and I could never thank you women enough for helping clean up my messy book and giving me suggestions on how to make it the best possible.
I also want to thank the second round beta readers: Tiffani Bergayle Sanderson-Bullock, Michelle Polk, Julie Mishler, Wendy Dawn, and Ileana Scarlett Rivera Soto. You girls have certainly made this process interesting and fun since I started the street team. Thank you for all your great suggestions and taking the time to read my work.
No matter if, you were a first or second round beta, I love you all dearly and appreciate everything you have done to help get this book published. Boy, the laughs we have had while doing it!
I lay waiting patiently for the abusive bastard to leave for work. Today is the day I’m making my escape. Two months of planning has finally became a reality, and I will no longer be his prisoner, confined to this cell he calls an apartment. No more wondering what drunken reason he will come up with to take out his aggressions on me. Last night will be the last time he will use me as his personal punching bag.
Finally, I hear the shower shut off and know it will be only a matter of minutes before I put my plan into action. My palms are sweating and my stomach is in my throat. I remain as relaxed as possible, controlling my breathing and trying not to flinch when he bends down and kisses my forehead.
The smell of his cologne fills my nose making me nauseous. The whole time I’m lying there, I wish that I had enough power to deliver the same kind of pain upon him that he has inflicted on me over the last three years. I hear him whisper the same words he says every morning.
“I love you Kylie Jenkins. R
emember, you will always be mine.”
My jaw begins to tighten with anxiety and
I will myself to relax. I’m almost free from the nightmare that has become my life. I feel a slight breeze on my face as he turns to go, hearing the jingle of his key ring as he grabs them from the dresser. A moment later, the click of the front door latching closed behind him echoes through the room and then the low rumble of his Harley Davidson coming to life in the driveway. I remain where I am a few moments longer, not wanting him to see my silhouette moving around the apartment. With a loud roar from the Harley, he takes off down the road and I’m up and moving in a flash.
With a quick glance at the clock, I realize I only have two hours before my plane takes off. Within minutes, I’m dressed in a comfy pair of faded jeans, a tank top, and my favorite flip-flops. I run a brush through my long blonde locks and sweep it all up into a plain ponytail. I quickly brush my teeth, but have to waste a good ten minutes applying enough foundation and eye shadow to cover the multiple shades of bruising to my left eye and cheekbone. I make a mental note to grab my sunglasses out of my car before the taxicab arrives.
I go back i
nto the bedroom and reach between the mattress and box spring, pulling out a pre-paid cell phone I purchased a week ago on one of my infrequent outings. As of right now, nobody has this number. I didn’t want to risk someone calling the phone while hidden under the bed. I place a call to the cab company and give them the address of the gas station two blocks away. They inform me the cab will be there in fifteen minutes.
“Perfect,” I say hanging up.
I grab a blue sweatshirt from the closet, the duffel bag from the top shelf that I packed a few days ago with minimal clothes, two pairs of shoes and a few important papers and photos. I go back to the bathroom to shove in a few toiletries, make up, and a brush. Looking around, I’m convinced he won’t notice anything missing. I grab my purse from the living room couch, remove my old cell phone, and replace it with the pre-paid phone. I decide to shove my old cell phone down between two couch cushions, as if I simply misplaced it and head for the door.
With one last glance around the apartme
nt, I turn to leave and make my way towards the gas station. The local fitness center happens to be right next to the gas station, and by all appearances, I look like a young woman heading to the gym for a morning workout, not the battered girlfriend walking away from her life.
Once I get into the safety of the cab and on my way to the airport, I think some of my anxiety will subside. Right now,
I’m nothing but a bundle of nerves, hoping that nobody from Dylan’s work will see me. They do road construction and can be just about anywhere in the city, working on a street. That would be just my luck, them working nearby in a city this huge. I’m hoping I can get to the airport without running into anyone that would tell Dylan they saw me. The duffel bag won’t fool him. He knows I loathe working out and wouldn’t be going to the fitness center, especially this early in the morning. If someone sees me and tells him, he will definitely call the apartment. When I’m not there to answer the phone, he will get suspicious and come hurrying home.
His paranoia has gotten so bad lately and I
don’t know the reason behind it. I have never given him a reason to think I am anything but faithful. He once asked me where I went during the day and when I told him nowhere, he sucker punched me in the gut. He told me I had one more chance to tell him the truth. If I didn’t, he would give me a beating I was sure I would never forget. I couldn’t figure out how he always knew when I had left the house, until he admitted that he checks the odometer on my car in the morning before leaving for work. When he started questioning me about certain friends I had on Facebook, I knew he had somehow gotten a hold of the password for my account. I explained they were just old friends from high school, but he didn’t believe me, which resulted in two broken ribs and a trip to the emergency room for trouble breathing. While I was at the hospital, the doctor informed me that the broken rib had come dangerously close to puncturing my lung.
I started visiting the local library before grocery shopping to send emails to Courtney and check her responses. Grocery shopping was one of my only allowed outings. I guess he figured one
couldn’t get into too much trouble picking out produce. I’m surprised that he hasn’t accused me of sleeping with the bag boy. I knew I had to find a way to leave him, each time he assaulted me, the injuries got worse.
Suddenly, I hear the distinct rumble
of an approaching Harley and I’m so panic-stricken I’m unable to take another step. The gas station is only about two hundred feet away, just across the street, yet I can’t seem to will my body to move. The sound is getting louder, and I know it is a matter of seconds before it is upon me. At this point, jumping in the bushes next to me would be a lost cause; I’m most definitely already in full view of whoever is riding the motorcycle. I hear the driver shift into a lower gear while approaching the stop sign and risk a glance back at the rider. I let out an audible sigh, not realizing I was even holding my breath. The Harley rider is old enough to be my grandpa, with his long white beard, huge beer belly, and old-fashioned helmet. The kind of helmet that looks like an upside down bowl and has a simple chinstrap. Not like Dylan’s hi-tech helmets with built in microphones so the rider and passenger can talk without screaming over the noise of the motorcycle. The rider nods in my direction and takes off again down the road. With shaky knees, I will myself to get moving again.
This incident has justified my decision to move out of state. If I were to stay here
and get my own place, I would always be looking over my shoulder, wondering if Dylan is nearby or coming after me. To me that is not a way of living. I want my freedom, to enjoy all that life has to offer. Maybe someday I will be able to trust someone and be willing to open my heart, once again. However, for now, I must focus on staying alive.
I try to place a call to my best friend Courtney
, while walking the remainder of the way to the gas station. I want to let her know I made it out of the house safely and that I’m on my way to the airport. Her phone rings about four times and then switches to voice mail. I leave a message, praying she gets it and someone will be there to pick me up. At this time of the morning, she is either getting ready for work or recovering from a hard night of partying.
Courtney, and her twin brother Cameron, and I have been best friends since kindergarten. I was extremely upset the day their family moved away to Florida, which was nearly thirteen years ago.
Courtney and I stayed in touch through letters, occasional phone calls, and most recently through social media such as; Facebook, Twitter, and Skype. As much as we tried to stay in contact, it still wasn’t the same as being able to do things together or wrap my arms around her to give her a hug. It’s going to be great to have both of them in my life once again.
Cameron is the first boy I
ever kissed. At the time, he was kind of a shy boy, with dark brown hair, and the warmest brown eyes that simply made me melt when he looked at me. We were secretly starting to develop feelings for each other and would find ways to get together without Courtney around, mostly when she was at soccer practice. It was all very innocent, holding hands and the occasional peck on the cheek, until the night before they moved. He snuck over to my house and we went for a walk to the park. He told me he loved me and gave me a deeper, more meaningful kiss, pushing his tongue into my mouth and making me feel things that scared me as a young girl. On our walk back home, he told me that I would always have a hold on his heart. I spent the entire night crying my eyes out, thinking I would never see him again.
Now reality is starting to hit me. We will soon be seeing each other again. I have to wonder if he has a girlfriend or even remembers what we shared so long ago. We may have been young, but I always regretted not knowing what would have become of our innocent love. I have never asked Courtney about Cameron’s girlfriends, thinking she may sense that I had feelings for her brother. Even after all these years, I have never come clean and told her we were seeing each other behind her back. I didn’t want to risk her getting mad at me for never telling her. She means way too much to me to let anything jeopardize our friendship.
When she found out that Dylan was hitting me
, she wanted to come here and devise a plan to murder him, we both decided that neither of us would fare well in prison if we were to be caught. I can say we took great pleasure in seeing who could come up with the most bizarre plan to eliminate him from my life. We ultimately decided the best option was for me to move to Florida as soon as possible.